


On the Run

by cruxcantare



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruxcantare/pseuds/cruxcantare
Summary: Steve, Sam, and Natasha take a break. Post Black Panther, pre Infinity War.





	On the Run

The truth is, as much as they’d like to stand still, there’s no place for them.

T’Challa had been extraordinarily kind, but Wakanda was its own beast, and the presence of an American based super unit after their recent unrest was unhelpful. The princess had given Steve a communicator, and promised that they’d always have friends beyond the shields. Yet the stain of Erik Killmonger’s vendetta still drenched the ground and T’Challa and his country had a long road ahead of him.

Sam, Steve, and Natasha were on their own.

Nat had a couple safe houses that weren’t leaked when she dumped SHIELD files on the internet, but more often than not, they were off the grid. Camping. When it was particularly cold, Nat and Sam had to take turns huddling in close to Steve, bask in the kind of bodily warmth that could only come out of a bottle, while the other kept look out.

It wasn’t ideal, but they were together. And as Steve liked reminding Natasha at her most miserable, it doesn’t matter _how_ they stay together.

At least this time, there was a roof over their heads. Sam had scouted ahead, making sure the bunker was as empty as Natasha remembered it. Unfortunately, it was emptier than she remembered: the food would go for a day and a half to feed two people and a Steve. Natasha volunteered to go into Klisura for supplies while Steve apologized way too much over the comms.

_“Should’ve just left you with Barnes,”_ Natasha responds, and Sam could almost feel Steve’s blush radiate through the earpiece.

_“See you soon Steve.”_

Taking off the exo-7 after all this time is a relief. Sam rolls his shoulders back, walking around the bunker. A glorified bucket of a toilet, no unit for showers. No beds. The shelves contain bags, supplies, rolled up sleeping bags, med kits, fake forms of identification that have been useless since 2014. Sam looks through the different identities. Nadine Rainier, Nadzia Rasine, Nadyenka Rishim. While the dates of birth vary, Sam notes the softer cheeks and skin, and knows how young she had to be when some of these photos were taken.

One of these days, Sam would get Steve and Nat their well-deserved break. Some nights they played a game where Sam, Nat, and Steve imagined what their hopefully eventual day off would look like. One of them would start the fantasy and the others would build upon it, down to what they were wearing and what they were drinking. It never felt real. How could it? Even when they had peace, their minds were always back in the wars, and now in Gods and robots and even their own team.

Natasha had at least seen Colonel Rhodes before going on the run. Sometimes the only way sleep would come was if Sam and Natasha laid close, Nat telling him how Stark helped Rhodey and Sam telling her how he, Scott, and Clint survived their stint in prison.

The others are safe, out of the game, and they are together. It doesn’t matter how they stay together.

Sam chooses not to make use of the bucket, instead finding a tree outside. If he’s going to be in the bunker by himself, he might as well keep it fresh for as long as possible. Sam hates waiting for them. After Leipzig, every departure feels like a last one. He cannot imagine Natasha in a cell like the one he was in, not to mention the hints of what Ross had planned for _Steve_ if he’d gotten arrested. Sam keeps that part of his interrogations close. Steve carries enough on his shoulders.

Sam wants to shut out the rest of the world, even in this small and dusty bunker. Sam wants to sleep for once. But even if he could close his eyes, all he could see is the _falls_ …

_“Sam. Its Steve. Open the door.”_

A smile. _“Tell me something only Steve would know.”_

It’s not necessary. Sam would know Steve’s voice anywhere, and the idea that someone could steal his comm in such short time is laughable. Sam’s already walking to the door. But still, Steve humors him.

” _After you played OK Computer for me I drew to nothing but Paranoid Android for an entire month.”_

Sam pulls the door open and lets Steve pull him into an embrace. “Sorry I’m late, I can’t fly.”

“I forgive you for now.”

***

“Natasha, ETA.”

Steve’s already stripped further than he has in a while. A t-shirt, muddled grey, his boots kicked off. Comfort was something Steve’s willingly given up in the 1940s, and he would make that choice again in 2016 if he had to, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about what he gave up. Steve misses the sunrise over the reflecting pool and the way Sam’s face twists when Steve makes a show out of passing him.

“ _Sorry I’ll be late, some of us can’t fly.”_

“He just made that joke. Literally, like, five seconds ago. Are you both _proud_ of that joke? Do you think you’re funny _?_ ”

Steve smiles at him, pulling him into his arms. “I think I’m very funny, actually.” Steve kisses Sam’s temple, and for a moment, Steve feels like they’re okay. He’d rather no one in the world at his side than Sam and Nat.

_“I’m not going to find a sock on the door?”_

Steve has no idea what that means.

“Like a sock would stop you from barging in.” Sam’s head rests against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve’s rubbing Sam’s back. It’s strange to feel the burden drop, even for a second. This isn’t where any of them would choose to be, but after everywhere they’ve been, the bunker’s a five-star hotel.

_“What can I say, it’s the beard.”_

For a moment it feels like they’re swaying. Steve hasn’t danced with Sam in a long time. It was pointless, anyway. Steve would just bump into him and step on his feet. Apologize for the fifth time while Sam smiled his big, toothy smile. Steve could swear everyone in Twins was aware of how much worse a dancer he was than they were, but Sam would just laugh at him.

“You have no idea what we’re talking about, do you?”

Steve smiles. “Oh, I know what you both mean when you talk about my beard.”

***

Steve unzips one sleeping bag wholly, laying it out. Sam lays another one on top of it before they lie on the ground. Steve’s arms find Sam’s body immediately, pulling him back until they’re spooning.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“If a big guy who messed with you on morning runs brought a beautiful spy to your house for help…’

“Would I do it again?” Sam’s hand closes over Steve’s, leading it to his mouth. Kissing the rough callouses on his fingertips. “No shit. You didn’t do this to me; I volunteered. Now stop.”

Steve doesn’t respond, but in his mind, a million _buts_ and _You’d be back home, jogging by the reflecting pool_ flit through his head. He can still see the purples, pinks, and oranges of the sunrise jog, Sam’s body becoming clearer and clearer as the sun rose. The sheen of sweat. Steve will choose this each time, but part of him wishes he’d never presented the choice to Sam.

“Hey. If a German scientist came up to you talking about being a super soldier, would you do it again?” He barely waits for Steve to process. “I thought so.”

Steve kisses his neck. He doesn’t have to be right so confidently. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, or how this ends.”

“Neither do I.” Sam twists in his arms until they’re facing each other. “Between you and me the 401K on this gig sucks.”

Steve leans in, pressing a kiss to his lips. When they used to fight, Sam called him a bulldozer, and Steve wonders how often Sam calls him that in his head now. It’s useless to think about when Sam’s tongue slides along his.

The kisses are deep breaths. Most of the time now, their kisses are quick, a short acknowledgement of what’s been between them for a long time. Sometimes, it feels like it’s been between them since Steve first shouted out he was on Sam’s left, wanting nothing more than the other man’s attention even though he had no idea what he’d do with it once he got it. When they can steal a moment? Steve needs to savor it.

Sometimes Steve thinks back to that short window between the funeral and the bombing of the UN where Steve saw a retirement plan. Him, Sam, a new life. Of course life shattered that fantasy before Steve could even figure out if he could live with it.

Steve gently presses Sam onto his back before climbing on top of him. He kisses him again, pressing against him, remembering that Sam had done it before. Sam had left it all behind before. And now here he is, on a couple sleeping bags in a bunker in Eastern Europe, with nothing to show for it.

"When's the last time we..."

"Too long ago," Sam responds. "Do you..."

"Fuck, of course I do." Steve kisses his jaw. Sam smells earthy, and although it’s not the cologne he wore when they were home, Steve almost wants him more. He stares into those brown eyes and just smiles, still unable to believe how much they get each other. If it bothers Sam that neither of them have had a formal shower in a while, he doesn't let on. Instead, he catches Steve's lips again.

***

“ _Hey boys. You decent?”_

Sam almost groans, and Steve's arm grows tighter around him. His eyes are shut but his body is almost too heavy to fall asleep. He presses his face into Steve's chest. The truth is, they are... about as decent as a couple men who last washed in a train station bathroom could be. They're both dressed enough to qualify he supposed: sweat-stained undershirts, pants, and their wooly, darkened socks. He doesn't want to get up. He wants to melt into the floor. Yet once Natasha's in, it's going to be more of the same. Resting until their stomachs demand their compliance.

“Tell me something only Natasha would know,” Steve breathes, before kissing Sam's forehead.

_“That you both stink and I was so nice to buy us a bar of soap.”_

Sam forces himself out of Steve’s arms and to the door. Once it’s open, Natasha’s already walking past him, stripping off her gear. Two sack bags are sitting by the door, waiting for Sam… well, _Steve_ , Sam’s all right letting him do all the lifting when they’re at rest... to bring them into the bunker.

“How long here until we’re tired of each other?” Natasha just sits on the bag, next to Steve. Sam's gotten a little better at seeing the real meaning behind Nat's words: she doesn't want to travel again so soon. The area of their makeshift mattress is just big enough for all of them if they were huddled close. Steve pushes himself into a seated position, a soft smile for Nat. His hand rests on her knee.

“Guess we’re going to find out.”


End file.
